Undead dreams
by zuzuthehuntress
Summary: This is an essay I wrote for my class. The main character there's no given name  is being haunted by a man, who she later finds out is already dead and is killing her friends for his rebirth. Other unnecessary details are in bold inside. Enjoy!


**Hey guys! If you know me from my pjo stories or looked at my profile, you may know that...it's not really like me to write this story. But it was only a class project (about zombies) and I had a lot of fun writing it ( except for the part I fell asleep writing it, and woke up at 5:30 feeling super tired but was like S#!t (monitered, monitered) after I realised I was still writing my essay, typed for another 2 hours, took an almost-literally 2-second shower-) whoops, gettting personal here...anyways...**

**the minimum amout of pages was 2, the maximum was 364 (no joke), and we couldn't print at school after 8:20, no exceptions, no sad stories... was what the rubric said. 364? I was like, eh, and I only did eight pages... i was wondering how I could set up the chapters, make this a three chapter story or a four chapter story, I have no idea yet. **

**I'll update every week to leave you (drum roll of horror, if they even exist) cliff hangers. Pms and reviews are GREATLY APPRECIATED and I will reply asap. Flames will be used for power outage candle light. Helpful or "helpful" tips are accepted. (I'm just kidding, I'll accept anything)**

**ENJOY! its not so scary, but the person who peer-edited this thought it was creepy. That's his opinion, hope it gives you the visual idea of the story...**

I threw my basketball bag across my room, and grabbed a clean shirt out of my laundry basket. The shirt was still warm, which meant mom must have just brought the basket upstairs. I looked across the room to find my basketball bag, which had landed on my bed. As I walked over to pick it up, a cold chill pierced my neck as if someone was staring behind me. I whirled around to find a man looking at me through the window. He was filthy, and had a large brown sack slung across his shoulder. Even though the window was closed, I heard his voice resonating in my mind.

_Come,_ he said. _Come to me._

My heart was racing as I cautiously tip-toed down the stairs and hesitantly approached the door. I slowly turned the doorknob and stuck my head out the door. The man stood motionlessly in my driveway, as if he were waiting for me. But as soon as my right foot touched the stair step he growled, and pointed a gnarled finger at something in the backyard. I squinted into the darkness and found my bike leaned against the garage. How it had gotten out of my garage, I had no idea. I tried to hop down the stairs to retrieve it, but my feet were unable to move. But suddenly, the man raised his hand and chanted something under his breath. The bike began to glow in a sickly shade of green, and rose up about two feet from the ground. I watched in astonishment as the bike slowly floated towards me and softly landed at the end of the driveway.

_Take this,_ the man's voice echoed. _And let the journey begin._

My vision began to blur, and I woke up panting on my bed. The room was quiet, except for my heavy breaths and the sound of the alarm clock on my bed stand. As I reached over to turn it off, I noticed my basketball bag right next to me on the bed. I was sure that it was in the patio as I left it, but ignored the thought as I walked to the bathroom to brush my teeth. But when I looked into the mirror I saw that I was wearing my volleyball camp shirt, which was ironic because I was sure it was still in the laundry. Suddenly, a horrible thought came to me. It was the same shirt I had worn in my dream. I flew downstairs and opened the door, only to find my bike collapsed in a heap at the end of the driveway.

Class had never been so difficult to listen to. As hard as I tried to listen, the images of the dream would flash before my eyes, and my concentration would slip away from me. I couldn't even hear the teacher talking, or the conversations of my friends at lunch, or the sound of the bell ringing that told us the school day was over. Even walking home was difficult, for every man or bike I saw would remind me of the dream. That night, I tried hard to stay awake in fear of dreaming the same dream again. But after twelve-thirty I was so tired, my eyes had closed without my noticing. My vision began to blur, and I was swept back into my nightmare.

_You're late_, the man said in my mind as I walked over to him. _Your journey is yet to start_. _Follow me, young one._

I cautiously sat on my bike and gripped the rubber handlebars. Although I was scared, I was also curious. What did the man have to show me?

"I'm ready," I said as I kicked up the bike stand. "Show me anything."

The man chuckled softly as he waved his hand around me. _Anything it is, then._


End file.
